


That Which Binds Us

by debit



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debit/pseuds/debit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Requested at the kink meme: Hawke is discovered as an apostate and forcefully taken to the Circle, where he's a constant target for the other Templars. For the first time in their lives, the roles of the two Hawke siblings are reversed - Carver is the strong one, the protector while Hawke looks up to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Which Binds Us

**Author's Note:**

> I have been going through the older, unfilled prompts and bookmarking things that looked like a challenge, something I'd probably not think to write on my own, and this fit the bill.
> 
> I normally don't warn, but should anyone unfamiliar with the fandom stumble upon it, they wouldn't know, so. Warnings: Incest. Issues of extremely dubious consent.

It’s been thirty days and Carver can barely keep himself to a walk as he heads toward the Gallows lower levels. He nods at the guards stationed along the corridor, ignores the faint sounds coming from the cells he passes; his entire attention is focused on the door Ser Alrik stands next to.

“Ser,” he says, coming to attention as he halts.

Alrik gives him a once over, as if he’ll turn this duty over to someone else should Carver fail to pass his inspection. He knows it’s a game, an empty threat; Meredith gave him her permission. It’s his reward for clearing out that bloodmage nest in Darktown and not even Alrik can take it away from him. Knowing that is the only thing that keeps his face calm, his eyes serene as he waits.

“I suppose you’re here to fetch him, then,” Alrik finally says in a sour voice. “Going to keep him out of mischief this time?”

“Yes Ser,” he says, and means it. This will not happen again.

“I suppose we shall see,” Alrik says in a mutter, clearly dubious. “This is the second time he’s done solitary. Usually only takes once. Here. Collar.”

Carver takes the collar, the metal making a muted clink on his gauntlets.

“I doubt he’ll be very lively, but stand ready.” Alrik turns the key and presses the latch, opening the door just enough to allow Carver to enter the doorway.

He blinks, eyes adjusting to the dark and for a moment blind panic fills him when he can’t seem to see anything but the empty cot, but a small movement in the corner draw his attention and his feet are moving before he has time for another thought.

“Garrett,” he says gently, knowing the light and the sound after such a prolonged time of dark and silence must be overwhelming, “Garrett, it’s all right, I’ve come to fetch you now.”

Garrett is a small huddle pressed into the corner as if he can hide in it, face turned to the wall, eyes tightly closed. He makes a tiny sound that might have been Carver’s name, but it is lost as Alrik calls, “Oy! Collar!”

Garrett flinches at Alrik’s voice and presses harder into the corner. Carver wants nothing more than to scoop him into his arms right then and there, but he knows the rules. “Easy,” he soothes. “It’s all right.”

He kneels down next to Garrett, notes that while he’s dirty, he’s not bruised, not that he can see anyway, and his tension eases down a notch. “I’m just going to put this on you, then we can go.” He has to harden himself when Garrett whimpers a little, but keeps his voice soft when he says, “I know you don’t like it, but it’s the only way.” He lifts Garrett’s hair off the back of his neck, then gently puts the collar in place, turning the catch when it settles. There’s a brief hum and a glow as it activates and this time Garrett actually cries out a little.

“Juiced it up, did they?” Alriks asks from the doorway, satisfaction clear in his voice. “Should have done it before.”

Carver ignores him as he removes his gauntlets and runs his fingers around and under the collar, making sure it’s not too tight, that there are no sharp edges. It hums a little in his hands, gives him tiny pulses of power as it takes what little mana Garrett has in him and drains it out. It’s heavier than the previous collar Garrett had worn and broken free of, and Carver hopes this one will be the last he’ll ever have to put on his brother.

“There now, all done,” he says easily. “Now we can go.” When Garrett doesn’t move, Carver’s heart clenches and he whispers, “It’s all right, Garrett. I have you.” He lifts his bother up, heart clenching again at how light he is, how much muscle he’d lost, how he just lays there in Carver’s arms, eyes closed, face pressed to his shoulder.

“I don’t know why they let you spoil him so,” Alrik says as Carver strides from the cell, Garrett a quiet bundle in his arms.

“I know my duty,” Carver says evenly. It’s not something he can ever forget. If he screws up, if he steps out of line, who will protect Garrett? “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

He has permission to keep Garrett with him. It was Meredith’s one concession to his diligent service and Carver had to work like a dog to earn it. But it was all worth it, to be able to bring him back to his room and take care of him. “I have a bath ready,” he says to Garrett as he kicks the door closed. “And a meal for afterwards when you’re clean.”

Garrett clings to him a little when Carvers sets him on the edge of the bed, and Carver gives him a gentle kiss on the forehead. “It’s all right, I’m not leaving,” he says. “Just let me close the curtains, then you can open your eyes, okay?”

In the dim room with the curtains drawn, Carver lights a few candles, then kneels in front of Garrett and strokes the hair back from his forehead. “Garrett,” he says quietly, “Open your eyes now and look at me.”

Lashes fluttering as he blinks, Garrett’s pupils slowly contract as he focuses on Carver’s face. “Carver,” he whispers, his voice rough, as if it hadn’t been used for a while. He licks his lips and Carver presses a glass of water to them, then draws it back a little when Garrett clutches at it and drinks greedily. “Slowly, slowly. You’ll make yourself sick.”

When Garrett finishes with a sigh, Carver asks, “Better?” and then “Good,” when Garrett gives a small nod. “Let’s get you into the bath, then.”

Garrett is still shaky, so Carver holds him in one arm as he pulls the thin robe off him and lets it drop to the floor. He lifts Garrett again, and gently settles him in the bath, then sits back on his heels to take a look.

Where there had been corded muscle is now lean flash, Garrett’s once imposing frame now rangy. But Carver can see no bruises, no wounds, so he relaxes a little. “We’re going to have to fatten you up a little,” he says, “but first let’s get you clean.”

The beard is the first thing to go, Garrett sitting careful and still while Carver strokes the razor over his face and up his throat. The hair is next, and Carver patiently washes and rinses it until it’s clean, then works out the tangles with a wide toothed comb. When he’s done, it almost reaches the middle of Garrett’s back, the curls pulled out by the weight of it. He’d planned on cutting it, but now...”I think it suits you,” he says as he ties it back at the nape of Garrett’s neck.

Then he lathers a sponge with some sweet smelling soap, the kind the Garrett used to say smelled like sunshine, and begins washing him. Garrett obediently lifts his arms and leans forward as directed, but balks a little when Carver goes to wash between his legs. “Sponge too rough?” he asks, and lathers his hand instead.

“No,” Garrett says, but Carver hushes him and parts his thighs, washes him with care and notices with almost clinical detachment when Garrett’s cock twitches in his soapy hand. He gives it an affectionate pat, then tells Garrett to stand so he can rinse him with the last bucket of warm water.

Garrett shivers a little when Carver dries him, and accepts the new robe with a grateful sigh.

“Now let’s get some food into you,” Carver says as pulls out a chair for Garrett. “I was going to have all your favorites, but I thought something rich might not be good for you right away.”

There’s a clear broth, a simple omelet, bread and a sliced apple with a little cheese. Garrett eats it all silently, but shakes his head when Carver asks if he wants more.

He stays in his chair and looks at his hands when the Tranquil come in to clear the table and empty the bath, not looking up again until the door latch clicks shut behind them.

Holding his gaze, Carver leans against the door and says, “Are you feeling well enough to talk now?”

When Garrett gives a hesitant nod, Carver smiles and says, “I’m not going to yell. You should understand that I’m not angry at you, Garrett, I was just worried out of my skull. They hurt you the last time you were in solitary, and they wouldn’t let me even look in, so I had no idea how you were.”

“I’m sorry,” Garrett whispers, gaze dropping. “You know I had to.”

“Help that girl escape? You didn’t have to. You could have come to me.” Carver tries to keep the angry hurt out of his voice, knows he doesn’t succeed when Garrett flinches a little. He crosses the floor and kneels in front of Garrett’s chair and takes his hands in his. “I’m sorry, I’m not angry, truly. Just tell me why?”

Garrett’s fingers twitch in his, then tighten a little. “She was...” he says slowly, as if trying to remember, “she was Bethany’s age. You wouldn’t want Bethany here, would you?”

And Carver’s eyes are drawn to the collar, the one Meredith’s pet Tranquil helped design. It leeches a mage’s mana and keeps them quiet, compliant. A leash, Meredith calls it, something to be removed as needed or tightened in punishment.

“No,” he finally says, “I wouldn’t want Bethany here. I don’t want either of us here.”

“And yet here we are,” Garrett says, his voice weary.

“Here we are,” Carver agrees. “But as long as I’m here, nothing is going to hurt you. Not now, not ever again. I swear it.”

Garrett’s fingers touch the collar and he looks away from Carver, but says, “I know.”

Carver feels a twinge of guilt, but they are not his rules and he can’t change what is. He simply says, “You’re tired. Come to bed.”

He settles Garrett on the side of the bed closest to the wall, putting himself between Garret and the door. He blows the candles out, and the only illumination is from the late afternoon sunlight seeping in from behind the curtains.

He can see Garrett solemnly watching him in the dim light and reaches out to stroke his cheek. “I missed you,” Carver whispers, and Garrett’s eyes flutter closed as he nuzzles Carvers hand and that is what undoes him.

It’s not fair, and he knows it. He knows Garrett is tired and worn, but he can’t help it. “Give me your mouth,” he says quietly.

Garrett stills, then swallows and obediently lifts his face, his eyes still closed. His lips touch Carvers in a light kiss, once, twice and then Carver says, “Now your tongue.”

With a tiny quiver running through him, Garrett licks at Carver’s mouth, soft and delicate little kitten licks until Carver parts his lips and lets him in. Bolder now, Garrett’s tongue rubs against his, then sucks at it and Carver groans and rolls Garrett underneath him and takes control, tongue fucking Garrett’s mouth with hard, urgent thrusts until Garrett whimpers into the kiss with every breath.

“Sorry,” Carver mutters, breath coming heavy and fast, “it’s just been so long.” He rests his forehead on Garrett’s and draws in a deep breath, calming himself. He is not a beast, he does not need to fall on Garrett like a starving man at his first meal in thirty days. He can be gentle.

He presses a soft, undemanding kiss on Garrett’s mouth, then kisses his throat while his hands pluck open the ties securing Garrett’s robes, then stroking them away. Garrett lies quiet, only a small hitch in his breath showing when Carver has touched a sensitive spot. He pauses at one such area, the small of Garrett’s back, stroking and circling with his fingertips, rediscovers what it feels like to have Garrett shivering underneath him.

“I missed you,” he says again into Garrett’s throat between kisses and wants to bite and suck, but that’s not for tonight. “Next time,” he says as he nuzzles Garrett’s ear, “I’m going to put my mark on you. Right here,” and he presses a kiss to where Garrett’s pulse beats, where the collar is warmed by his skin. “So you can feel me with every heartbeat.”

Garrett lets out a soft groan at that and puts his hands in Carver’s hair, holds him there while Carver mouths at him.

“No, not tonight. Shhh,” as Garrett makes a plaintive sound, “tonight I’m going to take care of you.” He lets his hand drift over Garrett’s abdomen, then lower, finds Garrett’s cock hard and eager for his touch. He give it a few gentle pulls, then goes lower and cups Garrett’s balls while rubbing just a little behind them, listens while Garrett’s breath goes ragged and then goes even lower, to circle his entrance with his fingertips. When Garrett closes his legs, trapping his hand, Carver breathes out, “Easy. Easy now. I know what you need.”

He pulls his hand free and gropes in the basket by the bed for the salve he keeps there, and when his hand returns to Garrett’s entrance, it is slick.

Garrett shakes his head a little when Carver presses in two fingers, but Carver nuzzles at his pulse again and repeats, “Easy. Let me take care of you.”

With a small shudder Garrett relaxes, spreads his legs wider at Carver’s touch and then helplessly starts moving his hips in tiny, receptive movements when Carver began to thrust his hand.

When he feels Garrett has enough slick, Carver pulls his fingers out and whispers, “On your side now,” and when Garrett complies he slides behind him, chest to back, then lifts Garrett’s leg over his and stops, the tip of his cock just kissing Garrett’s hole.

“Love you, Garrett,” he says as he pushes in and for a moment he can’t breath, just clutches at Garrett and holds him still, fights the urge to mindlessly rut until he spends all of himself deep inside his brother and whispers again, “Love you. Only you.”

Several deep breaths later and he has himself under control again, enough to withdraw a little then rock back in, to curl his hand around Garrett’s cock and let each push rock Garrett into his grip.

Garrett is tense in his arms and holding himself still until Carver says, “Garrett. Fuck me back.” Then he sobs out a breath and meets Carver halfway, settling into the rhythm Carver sets until they’re moving almost as one.

“If I could, I’d keep you like this always,” Carver murmurs into his shoulder, “just you and me. I’d kiss you and love you and keep you so full of me there wouldn’t be room for anything else. You wouldn’t want anything but my mouth and hands on your skin and my cock inside you.”

“No,” Garrett moans, but Carver gives a breathless laughs and continues his gentle trusting.

“No? I don’t think you mean that, not when you’re fucking my hand like this, not when you’re taking me in so deeply. See? I’m barely moving but you keep pressing back against me.”

Garrett shakes his head, but his hips continue to rock, pushing his cock into Carver’s hand, then back, pushing Carver’s cock deeper inside.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Tell me it feels good.”

With a shudder Garrett thrusts hard into Carver’s hand and moans, “...good.”

“Hm?”

“It feels good,” Garrett whispers.

“What feels good, Garrett? My hand? My cock?”

“Both. Your cock. When you fuck me it feels so-” His voice breaks as he pulses into Carver’s hand and Carver can’t stop himself from thrusting hard, and then pumps into Garrett until there’s nothing left in him.

He pulls out with a sigh, then settles Garrett against his shoulder. When he brings his hand up to Garrett’s mouth, Garrett obediently licks it clean and Carver kisses him, tastes him and feels his cock give an interested twitch.

Garrett looks at him somberly, his eyes heavy and Carver says, “Go to sleep for now. I’m here. I won’t let anything keep us apart again. I promise, Garrett.”

And Garrett closes his eyes and simply says, “I know.”


End file.
